


Unwritten and Unspoken

by putyourwatchaway



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F, Flirty Ann Walker, Horny Ann Walker (1803-1854), Masturbation, Supportive Anne Lister, Thirsty Ann Walker, must I go on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:23:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putyourwatchaway/pseuds/putyourwatchaway
Summary: In which Ann abandons fear while thinking about Anne, while writing in her diary about Anne, and while talking to Anne.





	Unwritten and Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> In case it's not obvious, I love Ann Walker. I love her courage and her thirst and I love Anne for Ann. I love Ann's sway over Anne, which shows up in the latter half of this.  
> Also featuring poor Aunt Anne and Marian, who have to deal with this ridiculous pair.

Some things were left unwritten. That was just the way things were. Even in her own diary, Ann didn’t bare all of her thoughts. What she wrote in her diary as a “pleasant rendezvous with the cousins with a slight disagreement about finances” might have actually been a much more charged interaction, which Ann would think about and worry about but not write about save for a curt sentence. And what she recorded as “thought of sister” might really indicate a notable moment of sadness for having not seen Elizabeth in nearly a year. 

Perhaps the most unwritten for Ann were things to do with Anne. Because there was just  _ so much  _ in her head to do with Anne. She wrote a significant amount about her in her diary. But compared to how much Anne occupied her life and her thoughts, the diary barely skimmed the surface. 

As of late, Ann had been thinking about how easily a diary could be a false representation of a person’s life. Diaries were supposed to be about self-intimacy, but when every decision about what to omit and what to include was deliberated and manufactured before putting pen to paper, then surely, writing was closer to self-alienation. 

So Ann wanted to forget her fear when she was writing. No more hesitation. Why shouldn’t she bare her thoughts in her own diary? 

She’d written that she loved Anne, and that she thought of her, but there was some other facet of her thoughts that, despite being alarmingly present every day of her life, didn’t quite make it onto page. Or, when it did make it on, was written as “longing” or “missing.” 

But Ann knew it was deeper than that, and much more carnal. Thinking about it made her blush. 

But she was going to be brave today, so she put pen to paper.

_ Thought of Anne –– she’d been out since early morning planting trees. Had the instinct to pleasure myself, so I did. Had some success. _

Ann shut the diary with a slap and put her face in her hands in embarrassment. She told herself to get over it and hesitantly reopened the journal.

She scratched out “ _ Had some success.”  _ and continued writing from there.

_ I thought of her in her vest and white shirt. How the vest follows the curve of her chest and how probably at that very moment, her tight hairdo was coming loose and strands of her hair might be wisping out and how her face might be aglow with sweat. I started thinking of moments she’d comforted me when I’d been feeling ill, but this made me feel different things than what I was searching for at the moment, so I paused. But shortly the longing came back. _

Ann paused and her pen hovered over the paper, for fear of what came next. But she pressed on.

_ I rested on our bed, over the sheets. I managed my hand under my petticoats and tried to touch that way. I felt quite ridiculous with layers of skirt flipped upwards like that. Yet it was too early to undress and I had no compelling reason to do so. I got up to check that the bedroom door was locked. I lay back down on the bed and tried it the way Anne does to me. It was wet there already, which made things easier for me and without even going inside I’d already had a +.” _

Ann shut the diary again and realized her face was hot. She smiled to herself and bit her lip at what she’d just written. She was too embarrassed to even read it over, but she felt proud that she’d written it at all. 

She put the diary away in her locked drawer and returned to studying French.

During supper that night, Anne wondered what was up with her wife that every time she looked at her, she was staring at her with some impish look on her face. When they made eye contact, Ann would turn pink and look away. Hadn’t they gotten over this shyness? Perhaps this was just Ann’s version of flirtation.  _ She’s been so busy looking at me that she’s hardly taken a bite of her food.  _

It got to the point where Aunt Anne asked if Miss Walker was doing quite okay and why she’d lost her appetite. Marian wasn't so clueless, and she had such a blatant look on her face that Anne thought she might scold her later for making Miss Walker embarrassed. Ann balked like she’d been caught, and throughout the rest of the meal she barely looked up from her plate and she ate so quickly Anne worried she might choke.

Anne and Ann retired to their bedchambers. For the past hour, Anne sat at the bedroom desk writing in her journal. Ann sat on the bed and stared at her, her imperfect brunette braid, how her drawers rode up when she sat and showed her thighs and how the sheer fabric slightly revealed her breasts and how the shift revealed her collarbone. 

Anne noticed all of this, even as she wrote, and she thought to herself what a funny thing it was that Ann had never really reserved herself from expressing her desire, not even since their first romps in Ann’s sitting room, but tonight there seemed to be something different.  _ She really thinks I didn’t just see her sitting there biting her lip. _

“You write about me in your journals, don’t you?” said Ann.

Anne’s pen froze. She’d just been writing about trees on the Shibden estate, but her mind was drawn now to very different things. 

“I do, yes.”

“Tell me, what sorts of things?” Ann said, shifting on the bed to lean closer.

“Well,” said Anne, setting her pen down, “about your French lessons, about our travels, about how you’ve been feeling.”

“How I’ve been feeling?”

“And how we’ve been getting along.”

“How we’ve been getting along  _ when _ ?” said Ann. Anne knew exactly what Ann wanted to hear, but she wouldn’t let her have it so easy.

“Just throughout the day,” said Anne. She turned back to her journal and continued writing. Ann huffed to herself and lay back down on the bed. She listened to the scratching of Anne’s pen for a few minutes, but soon resolved to try again.

She stayed lying down and said, “Do you think about me, Anne?”

Anne hid the surprise on her face. “A good amount.”

“A good amount?”

“We live together, after all,” said Anne. Ann hid her frustration (but Anne noticed it full and well, even though Ann was lying down on the bed, face towards the ceiling.)

“I mean when I’m not here. Like last weekend. Did you think of me?” said Ann.

Anne remembered last weekend, when Ann had gone on a visit to some family friends in York.  _ Incurred a cross thinking of A.  _ had been written three times in her journal, but she wasn’t about to tell Ann all her secrets.

Her wife surprised her, however. Ann, apparently, was done playing whatever game they were playing.

“Well,” said Ann, “I think about you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I thought about you this afternoon, when you were out digging holes in the ground.”

“I’m renovating Shibden, Ann.” But even though her voice stayed steady, Anne figured she wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“I wrote about it, too,” said Ann, eyeing her from the bed.

Anne could barely hide her surprise. Even for Anne, it took some time and effort to work up the nerve to write about  _ matters of the flesh  _ in her diary. And she’d devised a code.

Ann said, in a voice clearly intended to seduce, “It’s all in there. Read it if you like.”

Anne’s breath caught. “I won’t be breaching your privacy, Ann.”

“I was lying right here,” said Ann, “Fully dressed, of course.”

The thought of her wife pleasing herself in the very place she now lay was enough to compel Anne to her feet and to the bed.

“And what could you have been doing?” said Anne, taking her hair out of its braid.

Ann’s voice came out in a half-whisper. “I told you. Thinking about you.” Ann had turned to look Anne in the face. 

Anne climbed on the bed next to her. She whispered, “And you thought of me throughout dinner, didn’t you?” 

Anne brushed her hand on Ann’s face, which was warm and red. Ann nodded.

Anne scooted closer to her so their faces were close. “Tell me more.”

Ann was staring at her lips. She looked back at Anne’s eyes. “I thought of your mouth.”

“My mouth?”

“On mine.”

Anne leaned forward and kissed her. Immediately, Ann stuck her tongue inside and the kiss became wet. Ann let out a trembling breath.

Ann said, “Your hands. On me, all over.”

Anne gasped at the feeling her words sent shooting through her body. She kissed her again, and she snuck her hand between Ann’s legs. Ann rutted against it, but Anne didn’t move any higher.

“I was so wet today,” Ann whispered, “just imagining you.”

Anne lifted her knee between Ann’s legs, pressed her as close as possible.

“I wanted to… “ Ann hesitated.

“Wanted to what?”

“... to go inside.”

Anne almost moaned at the image of her wife, lying legs open, pleasuring herself with two fingers. Anne had done it so many times to herself, but the novelty of Ann doing it gave her a ridiculous wave of desire.

Ann continued, “but I wanted you so badly that I’d already finished before I could.”

Anne kissed her again, then said, “then why don’t we try it again now?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to leave feedback –– all is appreciated. Ngl I wrote the sex that comes after this but didn't post it b/c it's literally pure Top Ann smut. But if people want it then just maybe I'll post it and continue my descent into hell.


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